Save Tonight
by jesrod82
Summary: Ron has been distant for weeks, then comes home late one night, upset about a failed mission. Hermione tries to get him to talk and helps in more ways than one. Trigger warning: Death COMPLETE!


This story is the result of not one, but two prompts I received on Tumblr from diva-gonzo and an anonymous ask, basically saying Ron comes home upset from a mission, and Hermione helps using her special talents to calm him down. Or something like that.

So of course I end up with 4000 words of angst and 1000 words of actual smut. But I can't help it, and I have long since given up trying to fight it. So here is a completed one shot of Ron and Hermione doing what I tell them to do…

(Also, as I was writing a song came on, a remix of Save Tonight, and I immediately changed the title of this story because it fueled the M rated scene toward the end as I listened on repeat. Link (remove spaces!): /louis-vivet-music /save-tonight-feat-gavrielle-nick-goldston-1)

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

 _Save Tonight_

Hermione's quill tapped out a rhythm as if on its own atop the parchment on her lap, a hardback book underneath it. She sat on her bed, staring at the open doorway across from her that seemed to be mocking her with its emptiness, blank and staring, patronizing her with its lack of the one person she needed to see the most.

She had tried to distract herself in order to stay awake long enough to see him come home. Too many nights have gone by with her falling asleep amidst a pile of books, parchment and quill, only to wake in the dark with her things set neatly on her bedside table and her body tucked into Ron's arms. As much as she enjoyed being there, she wanted to experience the process of getting into bed with him. Not only that, she wanted to talk to him before he had a chance to make up an excuse by morning as to why he couldn't talk about what was has been bothering him for some time now.

Ron and Harry were a year into their careers as Aurors, but it didn't take that long to be given the most challenging, and what seemed to be the most dangerous, cases. Hermione knew that the case they were working on at the moment was the worst one yet. Ron had told her a little about it in the beginning when they had very few leads and zero suspects. There was only the crime of homicide: The case was being handled by Aurors because only magic could explain why this woman, who was almost ready to give birth, was suddenly dead with no baby and no physical evidence that she had given birth. It was a mystery that Ron and Harry were in charge of investigating and solving.

Since then Ron had taken to staying at the Ministry late into the night with paperwork, or out with Harry gathering evidence and questioning witnesses, all while undercover. With her job at the Ministry in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures Hermione was busy as well, so they hardly had any time together. She was starting to think he stayed away on purpose, to avoid talking to her, only coming home when he knew she was asleep. She had tried asking Harry, but he used the excuse of the case being top secret to get out of betting in between her and Ron. Hearing this worried her even more...

Frustrated and with a headache from all the thinking Hermione quit the tapping and moved everything off her bed to the bedside table. She was incredibly tired, but she refused to sleep, so she got to her feet and shook her arms and stretched her neck.

Padding across the hardwood floors on bare feet, she marched across the contemptuous doorway, feeling an urge to slam it, but instead kept walking into the small hallway and around the corner into the kitchen. She turned on the lamp with her wand and opened a cupboard. She wasn't hungry so she merely stared at its contents, thinking maybe she could make Ron something to eat. Then maybe he'd sit down to eat it, thus leaving him open to be talked to, and then maybe he'll be so grateful for the food that he'd talk back. Maybe…

With renewed energy from having a plan she grabbed a loaf of bread, cut two slices to the thickness she knew he liked, took various sliced meats and cheese from the refrigerator, some mustard, tomatoes, and pickles, and set about making the perfect sandwich.

She placed the plate holding the sandwich on the dining table then went for two classes and a bottle of red wine. Their flat wasn't very big so she had visual access to the fireplace and would know the instant he arrived. She felt a bit silly waiting up like this, with food waiting like bait to a fish, but she was desperate. She had to get some answers tonight or she feared this miscommunication between them would get to the point where their next row would end on a very bad note.

Feeling nervous and slightly perturbed at his lack of concern for her going to bed without him once again, she set to tapping her fingernails on the tabletop, glancing, and then glaring, at the fireplace while taking sips of wine, hoping it would help relax her nerves. Midnight came and went and she crossed her legs, resuming her tapping and glaring.

Ten minutes passed and finally a burst of green flames erupted quietly in the fireplace and Ron, too tall and shaking his red hair from soot, came tumbling out into the living room. She stopped tapping, but her heart started up the beat again as she waited for him to notice her sitting in the far corner.

"Bloody fucking…" he muttered then tossed his wand and a thick packaged envelope onto the sofa that sat in front of the fireplace. He stood there, staring down at the floor with an expression that Hermione couldn't read from her position. However, his body language was enough to erase any impatience or scolding she had on the tip of her tongue. He looked… angry. Not the kind of angry she felt scared of, but the kind she felt sorry for. It was a sad kind of angry, defeated almost…

"Ron?"

He jumped, his head snapped to where she now stood at the table with her hands wrung together at her belly.

"Are you alright?" she asked and took a step toward him.

He sighed and snatched his wand and package up from the sofa, tucking them both under his arm. He was wearing a hooded jumper and jeans, not his normal Auror uniform, which Hermione knew meant that he was undercover today.

"I'm alright," he said, barely getting the words out without clenched teeth. He dropped the package into a desk drawer that they shared behind the sofa. He radiated irritability and a short fuse that was hard to look at. His back was turned to Hermione as he peeled the jumper off, revealing a sweaty tshirt underneath. He must have been somewhere a lot cooler all day to have to wear a jumper, Hermione guessed. She wanted to ask, but held her tongue. She'd gotten used to stopping herself from asking too many questions for so long that she didn't know where to start.

"Are you hungry?"

He shook his head, his back still turned, and bent down to take off his trainers. She was beginning to feel as if he was disappointed she wasn't in bed sleeping, and tried not to take too much offense to it. _This isn't about me_ , she told herself.

"I made you a sandwich. You have to eat, Ron. I know you're not getting enough food all day."

"Why, did Harry tell you that?" he snorted and threw his used and clammy socks onto his trainers. She hated when he did that. She'd always have to fish them out later when it was time to do laundry.

"No," she said haughtily. "I can just tell. Besides, since when do you turn down food?" She chuckled, hoping to get a smile, but instead he turned and stalked to the table and sat down in front of the plate piled with the best sandwich she'd ever made. She poured some wine into his glass, which he took a gulp from as soon as she set the bottle down.

"Brilliant. Thanks," he said stonily, still not looking at her, and took a huge bite. She glared down at him, no longer able to hold back the hurt caused by the dismissive attitude he was throwing at her. She also knew he was only eating to shut her up.

"You're very welcome," she said icily and sat down hard in her chair. She would not stomp off into the bedroom, because she knew that's what Ron wanted, to get her angry enough to forget why she stayed awake to begin with, thus leaving him alone. "Do you like it? I added pickles." She struggled to keep her voice even, and when Ron finally looked at her she smiled.

Apparently that was the wrong thing to do because Ron put the sandwich back down and stood back up.

"Wait, you're not finished!" She stood up to block his path to the hallway leading to the bathroom and bedroom.

"Hermione, move. Please," he said, his eyes firmly attached to the wall over her left shoulder.

She took in a deep breath, and also his clenched fists and tired eyes. But she stood firmly with hands on her hips. "No. I will not move until you talk to me. I mean, really talk to me."

He finally looked at her and she could see a softening in his eyes, but it was faint and hidden beneath a layer of contempt and exhaustion.

"Not now, Herimone."

"When? Tomorrow? Next week? Next month, when we're so far into this silent treatment that we forget how to even communicate? I'm tired of this, Ron. Whatever is happening… I want to help. I don't want to fight with you."

"If you don't want a row then move," he replied and stepped to his right. She moved to her left, blocking him once more. Their chests bumped and he groaned, taking a step back. "Bloody hell, can't you see I don't-"

"Want to talk?" she finished for him, and threw her hands in the air. "Yes, I can. I've been seeing it for weeks now! You come home in a strop and I'm supposed to ignore it. I've kept my mouth shut for too long, against all my better judgment, waiting for you to come to me, because I stupidly believed that we were partners! That you trusted me! But I guess I was wrong. You'd rather be out there and stay as far away from me and for as long as possible, not even caring how I feel about it. Not even caring that I'd feel left out, like… like you weren't interested anymore." He was staring at her, dumbfounded, and she took advantage of his mastered silence to let it all out. "I'd rather you chuck me now; be honest and tell me you no longer want this life with me anymore than avoid talking or even looking at me."

"I've been busy!" he yelled and backed up another step, away from her heated expression and wild eyes. "You act like I'm out there at the pub or somewhere having fun. I'm working! Trying to do the right thing. The world is fucked up, Hermione! I have to do my part! Then I come home to you scolding me for not wanting to talk when you demand it. I'm not a child!"

"So either tell me what the hell is going on, or don't, that's your decision,' she said, no longer feeling the energy to yell. "I love you, Ron, and I'm sorry for anything you're going through. But you can't just… discard me, as if not talking to me is sparing my feelings. I'm not leaving." She paused to catch her breath and put a hand over her rapidly beating heart. "And neither are you."

Ron was running his hands through his hair and pacing in front of the fireplace. He looked pissed off, but also thoughtful, and she hope he was trying to process what she said.

"Ron, please…" Her voice shook, letting some of the desperation filter into her words. "Just tell me what's happened."

"I don't want to talk about it," he said simply, then turned his back to her and sat on the sofa. "But I know I should. Fuck, I let this go too far, didn't I?"

Hermione made her way to the sofa and sat on edge of the cushion furthest away from him, wanting to give him space, but wanting him to know she was still there.

"Is this about the case you're working on; about the woman who was murdered and the missing baby?"

He nodded, staring unblinking at the dark recess of the unlit fireplace.

"Did you find who did it?"

He nodded again.

"Did you find… the baby?"

He nodded again, then his head dropped to look down at his hands that were clasped tightly in his lap.

"Was it… what happened to it?"

"It… was a girl. We found her, yeah,' he said quietly then shook his head and sat back against the cushions.

Hermione's heart skipped and she held back a gasp, realizing what he meant by 'was'. She slid closer to him and put a hand over both of his. She waited until she felt them relax under her touch and said, "Tell me what happened."

He spoke in a quiet voice, still avoiding her eyes, but that was fine with her. He was talking and hadn't yet taken his hands out from under hers, and that was all she could ask for.

"She had married a wizard, and apparently cheated on him. He found out the baby wasn't his so he… he took it. Right from her, from inside of her… I still don't fully understand how he did it. Not just how, technically, but… how…" His expression changed to disgust. Hermione shook her head, shocked, and remained silent. "It took us so long to find him. But when we did he wouldn't tell us where the baby was… where she was. I've been interrogating him for about a week. Then the sick bastard killed himself in his cell yesterday."

This time Hermione gasped and held his hands tighter. "How did you find her?"

"He left a message on the wall, scratched it in. An address, somewhere in Iceland, of all places. Doesn't matter. We found her… dead… in a fucking dumpster. A baby, for fuck's sake!" His voice wavered and he finally looked at Hermione, incredulity and horror written all over his face. "Of all the things we've been through, Hermione, this was the worst thing I've ever seen." He shook his head and took his hands out from hers to run them through his hair.

"I'm so sorry, Ron,' Hermione said, tears rolling down her face. She couldn't – didn't even want to try to – imagine seeing something like that. She didn't ask for details about the scene. Seeing it was one thing, but to have to describe it… she was sure they had to do just that already too any times, to the Ministry and in reports…

"That's not even the worse part," he said with a sigh. "They found out she died yesterday. If I had just gotten the location out of him sooner… I had him for a week. A week! I could have saved her, if only I'd known-"

"Ron, you can't-"

"I can't blame myself? How can I not?" He looked at her and her heart broke into pieces, melting with the tears that were running down his face. "She died one day before we got there. And only when he decided to off himself. Death was too kind a punishment…"

"That's… awful," Hermione whispered, stroking his arm and shoulder. "I can't even imagine… I can see why this would affect you. But, Ron, you have to know there was nothing else you could have done."

"You don't know that."

"But I know you, and I know for a fact that you did everything within your power to find her. Harry as well. Between the two of you I'm sure you did all you could. That awful excuse for a human being… he never would have told you. He was a coward. I know that even without meeting him. People can be… evil. We know that first hand, don't we?"

"It's too much," he said, shaking his head. "Too much fucked up shit going on out there."

"That's why the Ministry needs you- needs us."

"Yeah, I guess," he sighs and takes her hand from his arm and rubs his thumbs across her knuckles. He settled more into the sofa, sliding down and resting his feet on the coffee table. She snuggled into his side and listened to his steady heartbeat under her ear. "I dunno how much more of this I can take."

"Being an Auror?"

"Yeah… I dunno if I'm cut out for this."

"I think," she said, lifting her head and wiping his face of tears, "you have a big heart. You take in so much and feel everything around you. I used to think you had very little emotional range, but I was wrong."

"So I'm just a big softie? Brilliant." He rolled his eyes and looked away.

"No, being empathetic is an admirable and honorable quality! I would be worried if you weren't affected by what happened today. I'm sure Harry isn't having a good time of it either, is he?"

"He took one look at her and punched a trashcan. Damn near broke his hand…"

"See? Perfectly normal. You're only human, Ron. And I'm also sure Ginny gave him the same speech I'm giving you. That doesn't mean you're not cut out for it. In fact, it means quite the opposite. The world needs more wizards like you and Harry fighting for us."

"Yeah?" He sounded uncertain, but she could tell she was reaching him.

"Yeah," she repeated and kissed his cheek.

"I'm glad you made me talk."

"I didn't want us falling apart. I had to do something."

"The sandwich was a nice touch, I'll give you that."

"You only took one bite."

"It was good. I can finish it tomorrow… Thanks."

He slid his arm behind her back and pulled her in closer, kissing her head that was nestled on his chest. She was glad that he finally told her what happened, but now worried how he was going to cope with it. She knew no matter how many times she told him it wasn't his fault he wouldn't believe her. But she planned on doing just that anyway, for as long as it takes.

"You're welcome," she said and lifted her head to look at him. His eyes were closed and he looked exhausted, physically and emotionally.

"Come on," she said and sat up, stretching, her energy waning. She turned and saw him watching her, or rather her chest, as she moved. Smiling to herself, Hermione grabbed his hand and pulled him to stand with her. "Why don't you have a shower and I'll clean up before we go to bed."

He nodded silently, watching her thoughtfully and with a slight tilt to his head.

"What is it?"

"I dunno,' he said and reached out to race her jaw with his thumb. "I feel so awful, but at the same time… lucky. You stopped me from completely fucking this up. You made that sandwich, stayed up late when I know how knackered you must be right now, and forced me to talk, even when I was an utter git for weeks… I dunno how you put up with me. I'm sorry."

Hermione smiled warmly and held his hand to her face. "It's only because I love you. That's all."

"I love you so much," he said and lowered his forehead to hers. "I thought I was sparing you from this. I should've known better. I should've known you'd make it better. You always do."

Then he kissed her lightly on the lips, and when he pulled away she let out a heavy sigh of relief.

"Go take a shower," she said and squeezed his hand once more before backing away slowly.

He rubbed his neck and blew out a breath, then disappeared into the hallway. She waited until she heard the water running behind the closed door before sitting down at the dining table with her face into her hands. She took a few deep breaths, taking this moment alone to let out more tears, to feel the shock and awe of what he had told her, to really take it in and digest it so as not to elevate his anxiety.

After a few minutes she shook her head to clear it and wiped her face of the tears that had fallen. Standing up she took the plate and wine from the table, dumped the dishes into the sink, and wrapped the sandwich in a container and placed it in the refrigerator. She turned off the lights and made her way to the bedroom, enjoying the sounds of Ron in the bathroom, of him being home.

She intended to stay awake to fall asleep with him, but as soon as her body hit the mattress her eyes were already closing against the faint glow of the candle burning on her bedside table.

It felt as if she had just closed her eyes when she felt Ron shaking her awake. She blinked into the darkness and turned her body to face Ron who was behind her, tapping her shoulder.

"Hermione, are you awake?"

"Hmmm?"

"Sorry, I just… I can't sleep."

"What time is it?"

"I dunno. Middle of the night."

"What's the matter?" she asked, now more awake and aware of the tone of his voice, timid and embarrassed, but urgent. She sat up and grabbed her wand.

"No, don't. Keep it dark."

"Okay." She put her wand back on the table and turned back to him. Her eyes now adjusting and absorbing the little bit of moonlight filtering through the curtains, and she was able to make out his silhouette next to her.

"I… I had a nightmare," he said reluctantly, hunched over with his head in his hands.

"Oh, Ron. Was it about… what happened today?"

She sat up next to him and wrapped her hand around his arm, trying to peer into his face in the dark.

"No…" he sighed and turned to her. "I saw you in that dumpster. You were… pregnant and… dead. I can't stop seeing it now."

She didn't know what to say. That terrible image was now in her brain and she felt sick to her stomach.

"I had to wake you up to see… Sorry, I feel like a tit now."

"Don't you dare," she said, rubbing his back. "I'm glad you did. And, look at me, I'm alive and here and with you." To emphasize her point she climbed onto his lap, straddling his waist and pulling his hand to her chest so he had no choice but to feel her. He spread his hand wide, pressing his palm against the tops of her breasts, his fingers slipping inside her vest.

"Your heart is beating so fast," he murmured.

"That's because you make me feel alive. Just being close to you, especially like this, it makes my heart go crazy. You know that," she smiled and let out a soft laugh. They have been together for over a year now. Him touching her chest was nothing new, yet he sat there as if in awe of her. It was then she realized just how long it had been since they were this close, since they had touched each other so intimately…

He removed his hand, but replaced it a second later with his mouth; moist, cool lips to the hot skin over her heart. She held her breath as he inhaled deeply, his nose poking her and taking in her scent. She let it go in one long breath when he slowly backed away.

She couldn't speak, but shudder as he started caressing her arms, up past her elbows to her shoulders, gently then indenting his thumbs into her collarbones. Then both his hands were flat against her chest, fingers underneath the vest and pulling the straps down and over her arms, exposing her breasts to the almost darkness.

Then his mouth was on her breast, wrapping his lips around her nipple and twirling his tongue and sending rapid fire jets of electricity down her body like a live wire thrown into a pool of water.

She arched her back immediately, completely open and ready for this. She wanted him so badly, having waited weeks, not only for him to talk about what was going on with him, but for his touch, for him kiss her and make her feel like only he could. She missed him something terrible, and here he was finally taking her in his hands and mouth and it suddenly felt like the first time…

Hermione gasped as he moved to her other breast, his hands suddenly on her hips, pulling her down into him until she could feel his hardness through the layers of pajamas and knickers. She pushed as he pulled and they groaned together. Her arms went around his neck and his face was level to hers, and they were kissing, hungry and fast to make up for all the kisses they've missed. They kissed to feel alive, to forget…

He pulled the vest completely off of her and ran his hands all over her back and sides and chest and stomach, all while kissing her lips, biting them and sucking and licking. She couldn't take any more. Pushing him onto his back she stood over him and unsteadily peeled her shorts and knickers down her legs, almost tripping on the bed. She quickly knelt between his legs and did the same for him, then they were both nude and there was nothing but warm skin with beating hearts pumping hot blood through veins.

"Alive… so alive," Ron whispered before pulling her up and over his body, wrapping himself with her legs and arms and turning them over so he was on top. Covering her fully with his body and weight he pressed her into the mattress, his hands pushing her legs up until knees met shoulders. And with one well practiced maneuver he was inside her.

Hermione's legs hooked over his arms as he spread them wide and plunged in and out, and she barely had time to breathe. She pulled him down on top of her and he let go of her legs to hug her and rolled his hips, making her moan.

She felt wild with lust and emotions and wanted to be the one to pull the impending and ultimate pleasure from him. So with all her strength she pushed off the bed and rolled them over so she was on top. He gasped and fell back, but held onto her hips to not lose contact.

Flipping her hair over her shoulders she sat along his waist, still full of him. She moved her hips, sliding back, then forwards again, earning a hiss from Ron. She did it again, this time lifting her bum off of him, feeling him slide out of her, then down, and he was back in.

 _Oh, this is brilliant_ , she thought.

He muttered exactly what she was thinking and she pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, moving again, and again. Panting from the exertion it took to repeatedly propel her body back and forth she was determined to take him to completion.

She felt him move suddenly and she slowed to a stop, thankful for the break. Then all of a sudden she could see him in the candlelight he had just lit.

"I had to see you like this," he said breathlessly, scanning her body from below, and licking his lips. "Fuck, you're gorgeous. Mmm…."

She grinned, her cheeks blaring red from the physical exertion and his compliment. When she started moving faster again his hands were on her bouncing breasts, thumbs circling nipples and she felt heady with waves of pleasure hitting her from so many directions.

"Does that feel good?" she muttered between gasps and pants and sweating, gripping his waist.

"God… fuck… yes… don't stop."

They stared at one another, neither one wanting to look away as she opened her mouth in a silent gasp, her hair tickling her back and Ron's hands kneading her breasts. She felt her strength waning, but Ron's brow knitted together as he pushed his hips up to meet hers.

"Oh my god," she cried out when he slammed up into her. She braced herself on his chest, hands slick on sweaty muscles, and his hands flew to her waist, holding her in place as he bucked up and down, faster and harder than she ever could. Her body shook from the movements, but then even more so when her orgasm hit her so suddenly and she was groaning and gasping, unable to control the sounds coming from her mouth.

She peered at him through the curly hair in her face and watched as his bottom lip disappeared between his teeth. His eyes squeezed shut at the same time he pushed her down and held her there, pumping into her for what felt like minutes.

She collapsed on top of him, and he held her tight, both of them sweating and panting and utterly exhausted, and still connected.

XXXXX

Thank you for the prompt! I hope I did it justice and that it wasn't too much with the case and all. I needed something to really upset Ron, which we just love to do to the guy, am I right? Poor Ron…

Also, this story was first published on my RomioneSmut Tumblr blog last week. Sometimes I will write a smutty oneshot and host it there for about a week before uploading to this website. So if you like this one you can follow the blog to get them earlier.

Thank you for reading!


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